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@weitogocindy
This is who Jihae Lee is to me, a true friend.
Proverbs 17:17: A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.
Grateful we had the weekend together in the city where we fell in love. Grateful we’ll have another week together in October to imagine what life might have been like had it not been for our world’s great Divine Comedy.
This, but not with anger.
Teehee.
I remember a time when I prayed based on vision and not just what was visible, when my faith was bigger than my fear and goofiness was alive and well.
Most recently, such a breakthrough in prayer led me to my beautiful miracle apartment, Apt. 1717, this new home of mine in Singapore with the clean bathrooms, sleek, modern, brightly lit interior, and clawfoot tub that I’d asked for as “an extra plus.”
I want to learn to ask freely for many things, to ask for the desires of my heart openly and without fear of rejection. I want to learn how to put my defenses down and be like the central flower in I. Lilias Trotter’s “Parables of the Cross”:
Look at this buttercup as it begins to learn its new lesson. The little hands of the calyx clasp tightly in the bud, round the beautiful petals; in the young flower their grasp grows more elastic - loosening somewhat in the daytime, but keeping the power of contracting, able to close in again during a rainstorm, or when night comes on. But see the central flower, which has reached its maturity. The calyx hands have unclasped utterly now - they have folded themselves back, past all power of closing again upon the petals, leaving the golden crown free to float away when God's time comes.
This weekend has been marked by a restlessness I’ve not experienced in a while. Perhaps it was due in part to a muted nostalgia for AMI Rev, the convergence of so many people I know and love in a city I hold so dear, all happening while I sit 12 hours ahead in sunny Singapore. Perhaps it was related to my siblings’ upcoming visit - as I type, they are boarding a flight from JFK to Beijing, where, after a grueling 12-hour layover, they’ll board another flight to Singapore. Perhaps it is due to just waiting in general. Waiting for the sun to rise in the morning and usher in new life, activity, the hustle and bustle of a new day.
These last few days, I've been sitting face-to-face with questions I thought I’d surrendered, hopes I thought I’d buried, desires I thought I’d laid down. It has been a lot for me, this honest and real return to a season past in which the rawness of longing met the jagged edges of disappointment, where acceptance of status quo was in faith a declaration of overflow. I was comforted by this excerpt from Saturday’s “Jesus Calling” devotional reading:
You gain confidence through knowing that I am with you - that you face nothing alone. Anxiety stems from asking the wrong question: “If such and such happens, can I handle it?” The true question is not whether you can cope with whatever happens, but whether you and I together can handle anything that occurs. It is this you-and-I-together factor that gives you confidence to face the day cheerfully.
The You-and-I together factor. A factor that was refined for years in the healing process post-2011 and then reduced even still these last three years in the undoing, dismantling, unwinding, unraveling. He asks me whether He has not already proven to me, time and time again, His trustworthiness in all seasons. He asks me whether He has not already proven to me, circumstance after circumstance, how He is perfect in all of His ways. He asks me whether He has not already shown me, time and time again, that He makes the same decisions I would make if I knew what He knows. And of course, He has. He has.
“And if not, He is still good.”
There is faith in this statement the size of a mustard seed, yet even that is enough to leash the Leviathan and make it a plaything for His little girl, to command mountains to throw themselves into the sea, and to cast out all fear through perfect love.
Yesterday we sang “Build My Life” at Sunday service and it brought back memories from 2016, the post-Operation-Lucky-Charms season, the Gong on guitar for RSD Summer Fellowship season, the confusing, dismantling, God’s Ways Are Higher Than Our Ways Season.
“I will put my trust in You alone and I will not be shaken.”
Trust is a funny thing. Recently I have become more comfortable with acknowledging that I do, in fact, trust the Lord. Perhaps imperfectly, but certainly earnestly.
I find it easy, when wrestling in the loneliness of singleness, when sitting in the uncertainty of Singapore and the year ahead, to condemn myself for my “little faith.” We are out here walking on water, I have taken my eyes off my Lord and placed them instead on the winds and waves - “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” My face grows hot with shame, but then I remember. There were 11 other disciples who didn’t get out of the boat at all.
Everyone’s “boat” looks different, and everyone’s “winds and waves” look different. We stay on our mat and refuse to allow the struggle to discredit the journey, the doubt to discredit the faith.
Psalm 16:8
8 I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
On repeat tonight because #feels.
Lyrics in particular that strike me this evening:
“He held my hand and He led me to trust Him.”
“Now I am hidden in the safety of Your love. I trust Your heart and Your intentions.”
“As I grow and as I change, may I love You more deeply. I will lean upon Your grace. I will weep because Your goodness is unending.”
“The sun, moon, and stars shout Your name, they give You reverence. And I will do the same. With all my heart, I give You glory.”
This cartoon represents how I’ve been feeling every night for the last two weeks of my trip back to the States. As I sit at my gate in preparation for the return to Singapore, there are a few things I wanted to note down to seal for myself. The following stream of consciousness is a handful of seeds that I want to sow intentionally so that the thorns and thistles of loneliness or the Javan mynah birds of stress and busyness cannot rob me of my joy.
This trip has been restorative and refreshing for so many different reasons. Many of you who met up with me during the last two weeks have heard that the move to Singapore has not been an easy one for me. Though Instagram is often filtered to give the impression of a “best life now,” the truly incredible adventure overseas, the reality is that the first 2.5 months of my move have been a battle.
The first half was all the novelty and adrenaline of moving to a new country on the other side of the world - finding my miracle apartment, figuring out how to set up my utilities, my bank account, my phone plan, learning the shortest route to the MRT station closest to my house, signing up for my new gym. The next several weeks thereafter, however, were when the sickness hit - physical sickness, social and emotional homesickness, and a spiritual and mental state of mind that I can only describe as hurry sickness. And all of these things took a toll on me such that when I finally arrived back in the States, it suddenly occurred to me how empty my tank was.
When I arrived in San Francisco and breathed in the fresh crisp air, when I got into the car and went home to the apartments of sisters who have known me for years, it finally hit me how parched and depleted I felt. So these last two weeks have been a welcome filling up of my tank, a healthy watering of brittle, dry soil, a refilling of my pink balloon.
And here are some of the things I take back with me:
All good things take time. One of the biggest blessings of the last two weeks was simply being able to sit in the presence of men and women who have known me for years, who know me better than I sometimes know myself, and so much deeper than the face value of any sentiment or passing thought I might share in conversation. In San Francisco, I reunited with a graduating class that has walked life with me for the better part of a decade. In New York City, I met with men and women who have seen me through the wringing, dismantling, and rebuilding of the last few years. All of these people are now a home for me, but this trip reminded me that this had not always been the case - at one point we were complete strangers. These sweet, soul-nurturing, life-giving friendships, like plants, required cultivating, watering, nurturing, pruning, and, most importantly - time. So there is so much hope for me in Singapore. 2.5 months in, I already have budding friendships with so many people. Only God knows what the next 2.5 years might hold.
God brought me to Singapore not to put me to work, but to show me Himself at work. I have been at risk of burn-out in my hurry sickness in Singapore, busying myself with my demanding job, then filling the other pockets of my life with meet-ups, the gym, and domestic exploration (i.e. cooking, cleaning, and plant adoption). This crazy pace has left me feeling frazzled and crispy (like bacon), and it took this trip, the distance, the separation, the time away, to realize that I’ve been trying so much to work, to do, but not to be and see. God has been telling me for years that it’s not about what I can do, but instead about what He’s already doing, but I find that I am still immature in this understanding, and thus need constant reminders.
I am in Singapore until I see what the Lord sent me out there to see, no matter how long that takes. When we met up at her apartment, Myra, my discipler at Remnant and dear older sister, asked me whether I was making active plans to return to NYC given how homesick I’ve been. I pondered it a moment and realized that I wasn’t making active plans at all. I wasn’t even ready to put any kind of definitive timeline by which I’d return to the States because I signed up for a question mark. InVision’s APAC market expansion aside, there are things that I am quietly anticipating of the Lord. I’ve shared with many that I felt like God brought me to Singapore for Himself, but I don’t know what that means yet and I can only wait in faith that I will know it when I see it.
I can choose to be frustrated and angry about the Singaporean humidity, or I can choose to see it as a physical reminder that the Holy Spirit envelops me moment by moment in this new space. This breakthrough warrants a longer blog post in its own right, and I still need to sit in this a lot longer, but it is just like the Lord to turn my thorns into buds and then roses. More to come here.
I can and must find new ways to love Singapore as I’ve loved Philadelphia and NYC. One thing I’ve lamented in my return to the States is how much I love walking through the cities I call home. So much of my heart for Philly and NYC was cultivated through prayer-walking in its streets, checking out nooks and crannies, finding unexpected gems. However, with Singapore being as hot and humid as it is, it’s been quite difficult for me to adopt the same habit in my new home. During one meet-up with an RSD sister, the thought occurred to me that Singapore is a safe and efficient enough place for me to experiment with exploring by bus rather than by foot. So some time in the upcoming months I intend to just get on a bus, sit for however long I want, explore my new home from the AC side of the window, and just see where it takes me.
My flight’s about to board now - you can follow my flight details here - so I will reflect more in the upcoming 24 hours on everything I’ve shared here. Please continue to keep me in your prayers, that the sweet joys that the Lord poured into my tank these past two weeks would continue to be stirred and increased to overflow. I am thankful for every one of you and the role you’ve played in my walk with Him.
Too many Christians try to wean ourselves off of sin instead of killing it. But Jesus said to the forgiven, “Go and sin no more.”
Struck by this exhortation when an old temptation reared its head on Friday night. Grateful for God’s timely instruction, hope it encourages you too!
In celebration of 3️⃣0️⃣5️⃣ DAY, I want to send special love from Singapore to the entire @305fitness family. Anyone who’s spent time with me over the last year has heard me talk about 305, this “55-minute dance cardio work-out inspired by the Miami club scene.” But 305 is so much more than an exercise class - it’s a passionate tribe, a total vibe, a loving family, a self-acceptance solace, and a home. In its steamy studio locker rooms, I swapped books with @missjomarch, shared major career and life updates with @lizzaarrdd, leaked my juicy Hinge and CMB escapades with @hyen.ny__, and bared my soul (and 🍑) to countless strangers. Through 305 Cardio, I learned how to embrace and love my inner queen 👸🏻 and celebrate all that my body can do. Through 305 FLX, I learned how to be more open, stay on my own mat and not compare myself with others, and press in to the discomfort knowing that in it comes growth. Through 305 PWR, I learned to pursue continual self-improvement and in so doing, surprise myself with my own strength, endurance, and tenacity. 💪🏼 I dedicate this post to the instructors who whipped my 🍑, lit me up 🔥, challenged me, loved me, and celebrated me during my journey as a 305 junkie, and my favorite memories from their classes:
Danielle, my childlike FLX playlist queen: “Cross your legs like a butterfly like you did back in summer camp. As you beat your wings, think about where you want to fly to… Danielle’s was always DisneyWorld. Still is.”
Bryan, my PWR Daddy with his self-deprecating humor and cool-down karaoke: “BABY YOU’RE A PLASTIC BAG PLASTIC BAG PLASTIC BAG.”
Jenn, my first locker room love: [post V-Day wine and chocolate] “305 is not a punishment for what you ate, but a celebration of what your body can do.”
Cat, my role model in flexibility and feminism: “Your edge might look different than your neighbor’s, but everyone’s edge feels the same.”
Katie, my vixen and peach queen: “When in doubt… twerk it out!” “It’s about to get litty titty.” “After we dance it out - we’ll have five minutes of tone-ting.”
Chris, original creator of the most hysterical comments on Katie’s ig content: [whilst dancing next to me] “How do your glasses stay on?”
Maria, 305’s goddess divine: “There is no ‘should.’ There’s only ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’”
Hannah and Darnell: Our very welcome Cupid interruption on V-Day 2019.
Sam: “Trey Songz is a total mood… I wonder what his concerts are like… I bet the women all come out naked.”
Sadie, our HBIC and the original party-starter: All of the above, because every single memory I’ve had in 305 I can credit to your tenacity and courage in going out and DOIN’ THE DAMN THING. You are the inspiration to so many (including my little sister Anna). I am grateful for your passion, grit, and candor!.
305 was one of the hardest things to leave behind in my move to Singapore, but I’m THRILLED about the new #305-ANYWHERE on-demand Youtube videos and today’s exclusive @tiesto drop! Friends in NYC, BOS, DC, LA, check out the in-person 305 experience in your cities. Everyone else, join me remotely and see what all this #makesweatsexy fuss is about! 😘 (at 305 Fitness) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuptqBjFxoigG-m2HGMR9MkDkAZwuwtv7YQ_4Q0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1286vz89gdce
Spoken into microphone: I dedicate my first Tumblr post in Singapore to Tasha Cobbs Leonard and Brenton Brown, whom the Lord inspired to write the song “You Know My Name” for me and my feelings.
I landed in Singapore on Saturday morning to start my new life here. The last 48 hours, true to Cindy fashion, have been a relentless drive forward. Upon arriving in Changi, I received my arrival card, threw all four of my millennial pink suitcases on a trolley cart, bought a Singtel top-up card, reactivated the SIM card from my last trip, hailed a Grab to my hotel in Robertson Quay, bought a week’s worth of buffet breakfast, checked into my Cozy Alcove early, showered, and got ready for my first apartment viewing, a charming, freshly painted HDB in Tanjong Pagar that had 2 bedrooms, 710 square feet, and “character,” a term I use to refer to the bathroom in kitchen situation common in many unrenovated HDBs.
After this first viewing, I roamed Chinatown and settled on having my first meal in Singapore at Din Tai Fung, then hailed a Grab to my second apartment viewing, a tiny unit in a condo in River Valley. Cue Americano and some light journaling before my first yoga class in Singapore with two of the GCC interns.
After yoga, we went down the street to a nearby hair removal studio I found on Google Maps. I tried sugaring for the first time and enjoyed it so much I bought a 500 SGD credit with 15% off all future services for a two-year validity because THE MORE YOU SPEND THE MORE YOU SAVE. The interns and I had dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Holland Village, reunited with Koi bubble tea, and roamed Star Vista before I Grabbed home and succumbed to jetlag at 8:30PM. Thus concluded Day 1, a manic 12 hours of non-stop activity.
Day 2 started at 2:10AM on Sunday morning. I decided in the wee hours of the night that as much as I might try to convince myself otherwise, I wasn’t comfortable with pre-renovation HDB bathrooms. I wondered if condo life might really be for me after all, and spent four hours looking at furniture on FortyTwo for the unfurnished condo unit I was scheduled to see on Sunday afternoon. I built an entire domestic fantasy around a unit I hadn’t even seen in person yet.
At Sunday service, I enjoyed a happy reunion with many of the GCC Singapore ladies with whom I’d connected during my last trip. All of them encouraged me not to be too hasty in making my housing decision. I told them I wanted to find a place within the week, as I’d only booked my hotel through Saturday. Many generously offered to let me stay with them as long as I’d need in the subsequent weeks, but I didn’t want to entertain the idea of the apartment search dragging on any longer.
Why? Because my weary mind didn’t want to sit in the decision fatigue anymore.
After the last six months of ping-ponging back and forth between continents, taking long extended business trips and living out of hotel rooms and suitcases, all I want now is to just settle down, unpack my millennial pink suitcases, build a home, and start my life here. Because of that deep desire, I found myself so very tempted to settle for the certainty of an inferior choice rather than continue to dwell in the uncertainty of a hope not guaranteed, a unicorn or miracle that might not exist. After seeing the first HDB unit, I’d told the Lord that He had 24 hours to veto my decision. When He did through my late-night epiphany, I told Him He’d have to make it really clear if the condo unit with its fantasy furniture wasn’t the one either.
And He did make it really clear. After post-service lunch, Glo and Ellen went with me to see the unit, and we knew upon walking in that it was not it. The fantasy furniture I’d picked out wouldn’t even fit in the unit. Byebye Singapore SIMS. Resigned, I crossed it off my list and went back to the drawing board. I opened WhatsApp and PropertyGuru, my apps of choice for apartment hunting, and booked four apartment viewings for Monday, most of which came from listing recommendations sent over by Joy, one of the married women at church with whom I’d formed a friendship during my January trip. I succumbed to jetlag at 5PM, woke up for a brief hour in the middle of the night, then slept until 4:30AM.
This morning when I woke up, I was struck by the reality that I had been talking to everybody and their mother about this apartment search, but not God Himself. I realized that for all the things I’ve said about wanting to “build a home” for us, I had not consulted Him at all. And it reminded me of something P. Paul said during his Sunday sermon, that prayerfulness is more important than preparation.
While scrolling through Facebook, I found the Tasha Cobbs Leonard album on an exchange between two of my sisters on GCC worship team, Semi and Aran Park. I put it on as I began journaling, and in the quiet hours of the morning, bared my soul before the Lord. I told Abba about my anxieties, and using Tasha’s prophetic words, I told Him about how much I wanted to be able to ask for a miracle home, to claim that there’s a miracle in the Singapore apartment market that’s got my name on it. And I opened up my journal entry from three weeks’ ago when I’d been learning to ask the Lord in faith for big ticket items, including the following:
A beautiful apartment in Singapore that WE - TRINITY - Abba, Jesus, Holy Spirit, and Cindy can make a HOME. 2BR for $2500 SGD a month OR LESS in a neighborhood that I genuinely LOVE, a home that truly SPARKS JOY and FEELS LIKE A GEM. CLEAN AND SLEEK BATHROOM. BRIGHTLY LIT. MODERN. GOOD FOR HOSTING. Convenient to CBD (and other neighborhoods). <30 minutes to CBD by walking preferably but also public transportation ~20 min. Bathtub is an extra PLUS but close to GYM is better.
Furniture that is straightforward and affordable and aesthetic.
When I wrote this, there was a neighborhood I had in mind - Tanjong Pagar, immediately south of the Central Business District, residential but walking distance to the commercial, home to three of the GCC Singapore ladies. I had a gym in mind as well, FitnessFirst at 100AM, because we all know that I’m going to have to wean myself off of 305 Fitness and find new group exercise classes to keep my body tight. The HDB I saw on Saturday was in Tanjong Pagar, which was a large part of the allure, but I could not in good faith say that it satisfied my requirement of “CLEAN AND SLEEK BATHROOM” or “BRIGHTLY LIT. MODERN.” And when child-like Cindy writes something in the Abba-Cindy journal in all caps, she’s serious about it.
As I was thinking through this, struggling to allow myself to ask Abba in faith for a miracle apartment, the song “You Know My Name” came on. Immediately I started crying, not simply because my heart in that moment was learning to agree with the Holy Spirit, “You know my name,” but more importantly because in that moment, I heard Abba ask me very gently, “Do you know your name?“
And it hit me like a wave.
My name, the first name I was ever given, is 心嘉 (Xīnjiā). The literal translation from the Chinese is “good, kind, and excellent heart.” However, my name is actually homophonous with two important words: 新家 and 新加. The first is the Chinese word for “new home” and “new family.” The second is the first two characters of 新加坡 (Xīnjiāpō), which, as you may have guessed, is the Mandarin name for Singapore.
So when Abba asked me, “Do you know your name?” I wept. His question brought me back to my first year in Sunday School at Chinese Baptist Church in Raleigh, our “new home” after my parents and I immigrated to the States from China. My Sunday School teachers had all assumed my Chinese name Xīnjiā was 新家, for “new home.” They thought my parents were being clever about their aspirations to immigrate and find a new life with the American dream. Little did they know, nor I at the time, that Abba was the clever one. He had given me this name because He intended to lead my little heart continually to new frontiers, “new homes,” and “new families.” One of those new homes and new families would be in 新加坡 (Xīnjiāpō), Singapore, which itself can literally be translated as “the slope of new increase.”
Apt. A slope of new increase, this upward climb to the high places where I can learn more and more about God’s character, His love, His various identities as my Provider, my Victor, my Defender, my Peace.
If you’ve made it to the end of this post, thank you for joining me on my grand new adventure! I invite you all to please rally with me in prayer for a miracle apartment in Singapore with two bedrooms so that I can host you when you come visit me. :) For your reference, based on PropertyGuru listings, the apartment that currently comes closest to fitting all the criteria child-like Cindy wrote in her journal entry a few weeks’ back is this 2BR HDB in Tanjong Pagar. I’m hoping to view it tonight as the last of five units I’m seeing, and if it’s as amazing in person as it looks in photos, I’m hoping to have the confidence to negotiate the rent down to my set 2,500 SGD budget.
Please join me in prayer on this treasure hunt! I know that God has great things in store for His Xinjia in Xinjiapo and I’m excited to share them with you here.
This morning I stepped into an elevator dry-heaving because I was struck with a wave of overwhelming emotion - a mix of gratitude, joy, excitement, anticipation, sadness, grief. The woman who had just stepped out of the elevator did a double-take out of concern, and I had a chance to share with her that it was my last few days in NYC and I’d be moving to Singapore soon. I was grieving the departure, a little scared about the whole move, but also so excited about what is to come. I laughed through my tears, thanked her for her concern, and assured her I was totally fine! After all, tears are just what happen when the heart has no more words to speak and the pent-up, unarticulated emotions have no choice but to brim out of your eyes.
During this last week in NYC, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what the last few years have wrought in me. I love that word - “wrought” - the verb of which Google defines as an archaic past and past participle of work, the adjective of which means “beaten out or shaped by hammering.” That is how I feel after these last 4.5 years in NYC - beaten out and shaped by hammering.
NYC is a city of hammers. The hammers come in all shapes and sizes - people we meet, love, and lose; the jobs we hold, identities we build, careers we launch; the subway delays and fickle weather of scorching heat, humidity, wet boots, wintry mix, blistering cold wind; the experiences that shatter our world views, expand our horizons, grow our mindsets. Some people speak of having a mother land. I have a mother city - this concrete jungle where dreams were made, breathed, born, and even laid to rest and buried. This is the city in which I came into my own. This is the city where I came to know myself in a deeper way, with more jagged, raw authenticity than ever before. NYC has been a city of hammers, and I am leaving it beaten out and beautifully shaped.
I grieve this morning for what I leave behind, the meet-ups that will inevitably be delayed, the people I might never see again, the individuals and also establishments that might not be around the next time I return.
A friend told me over text, “It’s okay to be sad. I’m sad too cause I’ll miss you. but this is a new beginning and it’s going to be good because God is good.”
And I replied, “It’s true. I am grieving a lot. But also in letting go, it frees our hands to pick up the new things God brings.”
Letting go is a beautiful thing, because it frees me to hold the new gifts that Abba desires to place in my little hands. When I first left GCC and Philadelphia in 2014, Abba said as He called me to New York City that He was taking me outside of my comfort zone and He wanted me to be brave. I thought at the time it was an anthem for New York specifically, but I realize now that He meant for courage to be the battle cry of my whole life. This is reality after college, after our K-12 education and all the well-defined milestones of pre-adult life. This is the uncharted waters of individuality and “self”-determination, where we come face to face with both our agency as well as our own human frailty. This is when we come to see that life is not a coloring book, but rather a blank canvas, and learn to embrace all the freedom that that holds.
So I start this and every day with a tiny step of courage into the great unknown, into the uncertainty of everything this future holds, choosing to believe that it will be good, and at the end of this journey, I will be wrought - beaten out and shaped - into something far more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.
On repeat because #feels and this song is an entire post-retreat and pre-Valentine’s Day MOOD.
Heard it on the V-Day playlist on Monday night and this morning at Danielle’s 305 FLX class. As corny as it sounds, this is exactly how I feel about Jesus right now.
“I think that I'm in love with you. I've been tellin' all my friends what I feel for you. I think that I'm in love with you. I've been doin' silly things when it comes to you.“
“Silly things” like packing up 4.5 years of my life in 3 weeks to move to the other side of the world to join You on some crazy adventure.
On repeat because #feels.
I need this reminder. So much of my life just feels like it‘s propelling forward so quickly, so outside of my own control, and this song is a reminder to me of who sits above it all.
Grateful.
All my fears, they don’t scare You All my shame doesn’t cause You to look the other way All my doubts, they don’t change You You stay the same, Your love remains
On repeat because #feels.
What an incredible new year 2019 has been so far (all 36 hours of it). Not because of anything in particular that has happened, but because for the first time in a long while, I feel I am walking into a new year with clear eyes.
My eyes are clear, even when the path ahead is not, the steps themselves are not, the outcome itself is not.
But one thing I know for sure - a film of doubt, a cloud of melancholy, a fog of worry has certainly been lifted. I’m processing this past year even still, but something broke through in 2018, something broke through and light has come into crevices and caverns of my very soul that had before been dark.
And it is a soul-splitting, heart-bursting feeling.
Oh what a year it will be.
A month-by-month summary of 2018:
January - birthday month
February - a consuming desire
March - devolution revolution
April - spring break
May - eat pray love
June - sassy saucy summer
July - the rebuilding
August - relinquishing control
September - the European plummet
October - quiet hours of the night
November - APAC roadshow
December - nostalgia
However the last year has been for you, if you are in Christ, God could not have been more good to you than he has been.
And just when I thought I was typing into an empty universe, He speaks.
This year, the post-holidays blues are hitting harder than normal. Perhaps it’s just these awkward few days between Christmas and the festivities of New Year’s, but I find myself feeling quite small, quite timid, quite empty, quite lonely.
2019 is a blank canvas of uncertainty, but right now the mental picture feels more like a foreboding dark storm than anything bright or cheery. Abba has been reminding me lately that He has a wonderful track record of turning my battlegrounds into my comfort zones, and each new home always holds so much victory in hindsight. Even still, I cannot help but feel small, nervous, fearful, “much-afraid.”
Here are the fears, in hopes that naming them might diminish their power:
Loneliness
Being insignificant
Being overlooked
Being left behind
Being passed up
Being unwanted
Being forgotten
Failure
Being found insufficient
Being found inadequate
Being rejected
I’ve been telling friends that it is precisely because I am afraid that I know this is the right choice. I say that my hope is that in jumping off the cliff, I will grow my wings on the way down. But this knowledge doesn’t make the fall any less scary.
I’ve been reflecting the last few days on whether my faith has actually gotten stronger in the last few years, or whether I’m just as timid and frightened as I always was. It’s hard to say, to know for sure, but perhaps I’m also being too hard on myself.
I just know that I want very much to be brave, to be fearless, to live with less regard for “what should be” and more unflinching embrace of “what is.”
